Twenty or thirty-something prisoners huddle together by the eastern wall of the compound, all of them looking as if they've been captive for weeks. Maybe months. Every single one is handcuffed.
The rare pair clutch at each other's hands, but otherwise they all stand a little apart from each other, as if they're strangers. They're calm as they watch my people stack dead bodies in the center of the compound, unfazed by death. This isn't surprising, considering the majority of them are shifters.
More unsettling is their lack of relief, until I realize they aren't sure if they've been saved or brought into a worse situation. They're suspicious and on edge.
What really throws me is the two standing slightly apart from the others. Even filthy and starved, there's no mistaking their ethereal features and pointed ears.
